


Heretic Pride

by RebelNoun



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Blood and Gore, Budding Love, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Coronation, F/F, F/M, Fade to Black, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Implied Sexual Content, Marriage Proposal, Minor canon divergence, Survivor Guilt, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-10-12 01:03:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20555648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebelNoun/pseuds/RebelNoun
Summary: The world can be cruel, but there exist others who can ease the pain. And in times of war, those you see as family can provide the normalcy you seek.





	1. Confessional

**Author's Note:**

> Overall work contains spoilers for Seteth & Flayn's A support and paralogue. GD Route.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, the world puts you on a pedestal. And when you fear yourself unworthy, sometime the only option is to seek out another who can listen.

Seteth was seated at his desk, papers strewn across it. It had gotten late, and he was no stranger to working well into the night. He was genuinely considering calling it an early night, as there was nothing urgently pressing that needed to be done, when he heard a soft knock at the door.

“Come in,” he called, tidying the surface of his desk, not knowing who came calling and hating the thought of anyone, particularly faculty, seeing him in any state of disarray.

He was pleasantly surprised when the person who came through the door was Byleth. Her mint-green hair shone a soft yellow in the light from the fireplace, the flames flickering gently in her vibrant green eyes. A chill had come into the air of late, and so she had traded her traditional attire for a modest blouse and loose-fitting trousers that tucked into her boots. He found the sight oddly alluring, and shook his head. He chuckled to himself as he thought about how long it had been since he had looked at someone like that, even for a fleeting moment, before regaining his composure.

“Professor, what brings you here at this hour..?” Seteth asked - or at least, he started to, until he realized that the newly-returned professor’s typically stone facade had shattered to pieces.

She quietly shut the door as she entered, collapsing against it with her face in her hands. Tears welled up in her eyes and dripped to the floor as she began to sob. “Seteth. Please. I…” Her words trailed off as she hiccupped and her shoulders shook. She didn’t see him as he practically leapt across his desk to catch her as her knees gave out.

He couldn’t shake the feeling of how natural it felt to be kneeling there next to her, holding her, comforting her. And a deep-rooted feeling in his gut told him there was likely a reason that she had gone to him, and not any of the other knights or professors, for the solace she sought. As her sobs subsided to sniffles, he brought a handkerchief out from his pocket and wiped the tear streaks from her cheeks.

“Byleth,” he began, as she looked up at him. “I will help you. If you simply need to talk then I...I will do my best to listen. And until you can do that, I will stay here. With you.”

The corners of her lips turned up into a delicate half-smile as he spoke, and she drew in a shaky breath. “Seteth, I -” Byleth stopped, as her voice was interrupted by a hiccup. Seteth couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Come, let me help you up,” he said, extending his hand as he rose to his feet. Byleth shyly took it, which took Seteth by surprise - since when was the masterful tactician so unsure of her actions? He led her to the sofa in front of the fireplace, beckoning for her to join him. He made sure to leave her plenty of room on the other side of the cushions - which is why it was a shock to him that she chose to sit close, resting her head on his shoulder. They sat there together, silent, for what seemed to be quite a while before Byleth’s breathing resembled anything normal. His breath hitched for a moment when she finally managed to speak.

“You...you smell like the sea, you know. Not that I mind. It’s...calming, somehow.”

“Calmed down, have we?” Seteth asked with a smirk.

The comment drew a groan out of Byleth, who playfully rolled her eyes before sitting back to look Seteth square in the eye. She steeled herself with a deep breath, and finally started to say everything that she’d been wanting to say for the past few days, months, years even. “Listen, Seteth. I...I think I’ve managed to piece it together. About who you are, I mean. You’re Cichol, aren’t you..?” Her voice trailed off with uncertainty as she read his face for the answer. She could tell as he looked away and took a breath as if to respond. “You don’t need to say anything. You said you’d listen, remember?”

Seteth couldn’t help but smile as he shifted to look at her as what seemed like a lifetime of stresses came pouring out.

“Ever since I’ve been here, I’ve felt this sense of duty to protect my students. Which is fair. I was a professor - I guess I still am, in a sense. And then it all started to spiral after my father died, and after I came back from Zahras, and then Edelgard turned out to be the Flame Emperor and attacked the monastery, and then...I fell. And I woke up. Five years later. Five! And everyone expects me to become the spearhead of all of this, no questions asked! Me! A mercenary who five years ago had no idea who the Goddess was, who Seiros is, the Saints, all of it, all of a sudden I’m decided to become the living embodiment of the Goddess and I just. I wake up five years after the siege, and everyone wants me to function as if this isn’t the case. It’s just...there’s no way I can live up to those. I’m not a Saint. And I…” _I don’t think I ever could be_, she thought, as her voice trailed off. Not like this.

He sat there as she let everything out that had been heaped onto her shoulders. The expectations, her fears, her insecurities and doubts. He let everything wash over him like a wave, genuinely surprised that she had dealt with all of this - and kept it in - for so long. When she finished, Seteth bowed his head, pinching his the bridge of his nose. “I...I’m sorry. I can’t help but feel that I am partially to blame. You...you deserved to know the truth. You deserved more than the meager support we tried to give you. Please, let me try to fix this. Although,” he paused, chuckling, “since you seem to have figured it out, I may not be the best saintly example for you to follow.” He felt his ears redden beneath his hair - it had been quite some time since he had been so candid with someone, and he wasn’t so sure that he wanted the comfort that came with it to go away. _Maybe...no, there’s no time for that, but…_ Seteth was deep in thought, so deep that the gentle touch that came to his lips made him start. Truly, it was a sensation that he hadn’t felt in the countless years since he’d had to bury his wife. The sadness that came with that memory quickly melted away, however, when the realization of what was happening finally dawned on him.

Byleth had his face cupped in her hands, her lips tenderly pressed to his. She pulled back, looking into his eyes, silently asking for permission if that was what he wanted, or forgiveness if it was not.

“Why?” His voice was hardly a whisper.

“Because you said that you would help me. And I know now that I’m not alone. And...you deserve to not be alone after all this time.” She brushed a strand of hair behind his ear, and she swore she saw a twinge of sadness cross his face, but it was gone in an instant.

He took her hand, pressing his forehead to hers. Taking a few moments to steady his resolve, he brought himself to speak. “Thank you,” he breathed, struggling to keep his voice from cracking, and bringing her face closer to his for another kiss. There was nothing more than slight touches and kisses, as the two shared what could have been thousands of unspoken wishes between them. They were so enraptured with themselves, in fact, that they missed the subtle knocks at the office door.

“Brother, I saw that your fireplace was still lit, and I was having trouble sleeping, so I brought you some tea,” came Flayn’s voice through the door. It wasn’t until she opened it, however, that both Byleth and Seteth realized that they were in too deep, and neither could be prepared for what happened next. “Where would you like me to -”

The next sound was that of china and silver striking the floor, as Flayn’s hands went to her cheeks and her eyes went wide. “I’ll, uh, come back later!” She darted back to the hallway, and both thought they heard what were jubilant shrieks as she rushed down the stairs, inevitably to spread the gossip that she had just witnessed.

Byleth and Seteth shared a look, and laughed. For him, it was likely the first genuine laugh he’d had in decades, if not centuries. Byleth squeezed his hand as she made her way out the door. “I feel like this is a problem that can wait until morning. Until then, _Professor_,” she said slyly, winking as she strode towards the stairs leading towards her quarters.

He stood in the doorway until Byleth rounded the corner, then shut the door and leaned back against the wall. It had gotten incredibly late, and certainly the evening's turn of events was something he couldn't have ever anticipated. Running a hand over his face, he knelt to pick up the tea set Flayn had dropped in her apparent shock. He chortled as he thought of how excited she had been as she ran off, likely waking up everyone in the monastery. _Perhaps Byleth is right_, he thought, when he noticed something about the tea that had spilled on the floor. It smelled faintly of chamomile. He cocked his head and sat on the floor. Flayn knew chamomile was far from his favorite, which could only mean…

_Maybe she knew all along_, he thought. He laid back and rested his head on his hands. He decided he'd sleep in his office tonight, as he could already hear the shouts of disbelief echoing from the student dormitories. The former students didn't need to see him in this state. As he drifted off, he couldn't help but think.

The days ahead were sure to be eventful, in more ways than one.


	2. When Saints are Sinners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after Byleth met with him in his office, Seteth reflects upon the reason for his hesitance.

It wasn't until well after the sun rose that Seteth finally woke up, groggily rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. As he propped himself up on his elbows, he realized that not everything was as he left it when he drifted off. Someone had slipped in while he slept and draped a blanket over him. _How kind_, he thought, as two possibilities of who was responsible came to mind. He scrunched his nose, catching the sharp aroma of ginger as he made his way to his desk. The tea set from the night before was gone, replaced with a fresh pot and accompanied by a note. As he read, he couldn't help but chuckle.

_"Brother, please forgive my intrusion last night. I saw the prof- I mean, Byleth - heading to your office and I could tell that something had upset her, but I didn't know what. I only wanted to help, though it now appears all I've done is embarrass you both in my excitement. Which, I am happy for you, truly. But...I'm also confused. I feel conflicted even though I know that this is a great thing. Anyway, I am sorry if I've resulted in things being a bit...awkward. Flayn_

_P.S. The blanket was her idea - she said you would catch cold if you slept here with nothing but the clothes on your back."_

He set the letter on his desk, pouring himself a cup of tea and turning to gaze out the window to the courtyard below. The monastery was beginning to bustle now, as it was already rather late in the morning. _At least it’s Sunday_, he thought, and he was right. Had it been any other day, his absence from meetings and seminars would certainly be noticed.

Seteth let his mind wander to the previous night, recalling the gentle kisses and touches he had shared with Byleth, and he couldn’t help but wonder. _Could something like that really be possible? No, there’s...too much_, he thought, a slight scowl of frustration crossing his face. Something was giving him pause, but he couldn’t quite figure out what. His mind danced around, finding any excuse except for the real reason: He simply couldn’t move on.

The tragic events that occurred well over a millennium ago still haunted him. He had barely been able to protect Flayn, and it came at the cost of his own wife’s life. _I was hardly saintly then_, he thought, reflecting on how it was his pride that told him that there was no way for the things he loved to be so unceremoniously stripped away. He shook his head. _And now she’s coming to me for help. How ironic_. He was almost bitter at the sentiment. How easily she tossed her pride aside…

“So you’re finally awake.”

He was glad he was turned toward the window, as he nearly choked on his tea. “And what brings you here on a Sunday, Professor?” he prodded, turning to face her.

Byleth smiled softly. “I wanted to thank you for last night. For letting me rant, I mean. And...also to apologize for putting you on the spot like that.” She blushed and shifted her gaze downward, shuffling her feet and twiddling her thumbs. It was difficult for her to admit, but she had acted on impulse. And while she did in fact harbor feelings for him, she had her doubts that they were requited. “So if...if you don’t want…”

Her voice trailed off, and Seteth could see the tops of her ears reddening. “Byleth, I said I would help-”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.” Try as she might to hide it, she spoke with a sense of urgency and...hope? “I told you last night I had it figured out. That you’re…” She hesitated, realizing she left the door cracked open. Upon shutting it, she continued, “You trusted me with the knowledge of who Flayn is to you, and you brought me to her mother’s grave. Why?”

While her tone was nowhere near accusatory, and her look was that of genuine curiosity, Seteth couldn’t help but feel that she had laid everything bare for the Goddess to see - and in a sense, she had, given her current condition. It was true that there were very few in Fódlan who knew that Flayn was his daughter, and he intended to keep it that way, at least until the war was over. So why did he tell her?

He leaned back onto the wall. “Zanado was so long ago,” he said, his voice betraying an inner weariness. “I tried to save her, but it was either her or Flayn. She told me she could handle herself, and to protect Flayn, and I did, but I...didn’t make it back for her in time. In the end, it was her choice, but I don’t think I’ve been truly forgiven by the one she left behind.”

“By Flayn, you mean?”

“No.”

It dawned on Byleth that after all these many, many years, Seteth hadn’t found it in him to forgive himself. She saw the grief in his face, rendering his typical borderline jovial expression rather sullen. It suddenly clicked as to why he was so protective of Flayn, even though she should be able to fend for herself by now. And it explained his hesitance when responding to her question.

“I know it’s time to move on, but...I can’t bear the thought of another Zanado.”

Even though his voice was hardly a whisper, she could hear it starting to crack. She couldn’t help but wonder how long he had been living on his own with Flayn, masquerading as brother and sister, never staying anywhere long enough to raise suspicions concerning their heritage. Shaking her head, she strode to stand with him by the window and cupped his cheek with her hand.

“There doesn’t need to be another Zanado,” she said, gazing up at him, “because I’m not her, and you aren’t the same man as you were a millennium ago.”

Seteth looked her in the eye and let a small smile come to his lips. She was right, and she knew it. He found it remarkable how she was able to figure him out so quickly, and that only enhanced her beauty in that moment. The expression on her face held nothing but love, the corners of her mouth turned up into a gentle smile. He leaned down to plant a kiss atop her head, wrapping his arms around her in a tender embrace.

“You know, for someone as young as you are, you are a remarkable judge of character,” he teased, finally coming to terms with what was happening. Yes, it’s time to move on, he thought, and besides, Flayn will likely enjoy the company.

“I learned it from watching you, you know,” she replied. “And...if we could be discreet with this? For the students’ sakes, I mean. I’d hate for-” she began, when she turned her face to look out the window and realized they had an eavesdropper.

“Hey guys, Flayn was right!” Claude called out from atop his wyvern. “Teach and Seteth are totally a thing!” He ducked when Byleth threw an apple at him through the now open window. “Sorry, Teach, buuuuut I had to see it for myself.” He flew off without another word while the other former students stood out in the courtyard, enjoying the spectacle.

When she turned to leave the office, Seteth nearly burst into laughter at the sight of Byleth’s face. She had been far more emotional than usual recently, which was not necessarily a bad thing, but the beet-red of her cheeks was definitely a new color for her. He offered her his arm as he opened the door.

“So much for discretion...shall we aim for keeping this within the monastery walls, then?”

She could only nod and hang her head as she looped her arm around his, and with her head bowed she was unable to see the warmth that had returned to Seteth’s eyes after being gone for too long.


	3. Damage Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone had to take the brunt of the inevitable punishment for interrupting Byleth and Seteth during their conversations.

The next day saw Claude receiving quite the stern reprimand from both Byleth and Seteth. Though the office door was closed, the rest of the former students, Alliance or not, had gathered to eavesdrop - apparently learning nothing from the former house leader. It was sound logic to them, though - hearing Seteth raise his voice was rare enough, but hearing that sort of tone from _Byleth_? Now that was a treat.

“Do you ever stop to think that maybe, just maybe, your actions could have consequences? I know you have a brain, Claude. Please use it for once!” Byleth’s voice was tinged with disappointment as she paced back and forth, pulling at her hair in frustration. She opened her mouth to continue, but rolled her eyes and reached for one of the seat cushions when Claude interrupted her.

“I mean, I do think, Teach. But normally that happens _as_ I’m doing something, not before,” he replied mischievously, barely able to dodge the pillow that came flying across the room. “And besides, the rest of us really needed answers to what Flayn had been babbling about the other night. She was so excited she couldn’t even speak in full sentences. You know, for being the overprotective brother that you are, she really does seem to think the world of you.”

Seteth’s stern gaze had softened at that. “Yes, well, I suppose she has her reasons,” he said, his voice quiet. Claude thought he picked up a hint of sadness in that voice, as if there was something that couldn’t be said, but he decided it was best not to pry. “Claude...exactly how much did you hear through the window yesterday?”

Claude cocked his head, slightly confused. “Well, given that it was shut until Teach decided to throw an apple at me, I didn’t hear a thing.” He became even more confused when he saw what appeared to be relief cross his face. “Look, if there’s anything you want me to do-”

“Just keep it in the monastery,” Byleth interjected curtly. “The damage has been done; now if you can make sure that the news doesn’t make it halfway across Fódlan…” There was no trace of a threat in her voice, but the sheer promise of punishment that Claude felt emanating from her eyes made him wince.

He sighed in defeat. “You got it, Teach. I’ll pass that along to the others.” As he was reaching for the doorknob to see himself out, he thought he heard hushed whispers and scuffling, almost as if…

_Oh no._

He rushed out, but couldn’t quite shut the door quick enough. The pair in the office caught a glimpse of Hilda’s pigtails as she rounded the corner, making for the stairs. Claude felt that it was in his best interest to follow after her, not wanting to invoke even more wrath from the ones in charge. “Sorry, Teach - I’ll give them a talking to, I promise!” he called out, bolting down the stairs two or three at a time.

Luckily enough for all of them, neither Byleth nor Seteth had the energy to chase after them, with the former opting instead to bang her head against the wall. “They really haven’t changed, have they?”

Seteth couldn’t help but chuckle. “No...no they have not.” He walked over and put his arm around her shoulders. With a playful look in his eye - something rather uncommon, Byleth noted - he suggested, “I have an idea for how to deal with this, if you’ll hear me out.”

Hilda cried that afternoon when she learned that there were no exceptions to everyone being put on stable duty for a week.

Later that evening, Seteth found himself wandering to the dining hall. He typically took his meals in his quarters, and in fact he had already eaten, but he wanted to observe. The camaraderie between the former students, especially those who had forsaken family and country for a unified cause, was truly an extraordinary thing.

Bernadetta, chasing after Leonie with needle and thread, begging for her to sit still so she could patch the hole that had opened up on her shirt sleeve.

Raphael, eagerly sharing a plate of sweet rolls with Lysithea while gushing about his little sister - though it seemed Lysithea cared more about the sweets.

Dorothea and Sylvain, bonding over what appeared to be a shared, jaded view of the world as it was.

Mercedes, gently braiding Annette’s hair while she alternated between sipping tea and working on her embroidery.

Claude and Marianne, consoling a sobbing Hilda, who had somehow managed to soil her clothes as a result of stable duty.

And flitting amongst all of them like a hummingbird was Byleth. The way she effortlessly drifted from table to table partaking in short conversations with her former students brought a twinge of yearning to Seteth’s heart, a yearning for a simpler time. In fact, her actions made current life at the monastery seem almost normal - it would be incredibly unlikely for someone to look at this scene and imagine that they were at war.

Goddess, he truly was enraptured by her.

He felt a slight tug on his sleeve, and looked down to see Flayn eagerly looking up at him.

“Brother! The Professor wants to know if you’d like to accompany her to the village this evening!” Flayn’s eyes held a certain ferocity, likely due to her anticipation of his response. She appeared to be struggling to not bounce up and down while her father pondered the request.

When was the last time he had seen her so excited about something?

Seteth turned his head to make eye contact with Byleth. She wore a sly smile as she nodded towards the main door of the dining hall. Chuckling, he pushed away from the pillar he had been leaning against and made his way to her side. His response to her didn’t require words as he offered his arm with a gentle smile.

They ignored the din that erupted in the hall as they left.

***

Flayn waited until the couple was well out of earshot before shouting out to the others in the dining hall. “There! Is that proof enough for you all?” She stood with her arms crossed at the front of the room, doing her best to feign looking cross - but of course, for a girl of her stature, that would be impossible if it were real anyway. Her pout nearly became laughter at the sight of Sylvain and Ferdinand both consoling each other, now that their beloved teacher was off the market.

Claude walked up and put a hand on her shoulder. “Well, it’s a better job than I did,” he admitted. For a master tactician, he had really gaffed that one up. But a reprimand and one week’s stable duty was totally worth it, he thought triumphantly. “Say, Flayn, you never told us how you ended up with stable duty - you weren’t out in the hallway with the rest of us.”

Flayn’s cheeks reddened in embarrassment. “The official reason is that my...excitement caused far too much disruption in the monastery. The unofficial reason is...he’s upset I broke his tea set.”

Claude guffawed. “Really? That’s why? Man, you’d think he was your dad or something, the way he treats you sometimes,” he teased. He noticed a flash of something cross Flayn’s face, but was uncertain as to whether it was shock or distaste. She began to pout, which got Claude thinking. _Maybe...no, this isn’t the place for that_, he thought. _But maybe…_

“You know, Flayn, if there’s anything you want to do, anything at all, without being under your brother’s watchful eye, now’s the time to do it,” he said, giving her a sly wink and a nudge. He didn’t expect the force that came with Flayn taking him by the hand and leading him off to the wyvern stables.

She decided she’d like to fly tonight.

***

As Byleth and Seteth made their way down the street, both couldn’t help but notice how calm everything was.

“You would think the whole world was at peace, just from this one little spot,” she said.

Seteth hummed in agreement. It was remarkable that over the course of his incredibly long life, moments of solace such as this were few and far between. Particularly after Zanado and the War of Heroes, there had been little time to rest. His tenure at the monastery, he realized, was the longest he and Flayn had stayed in one place.

They wandered aimlessly, until Byleth turned his attention to a willow at the edge of the river. “My father said this was a good fishing spot,” she whispered. “Plenty of fish, and it’s out of the way enough that no one should bother us.” She bent down and uncovered a worn fishing rod from the detritus at the base of the tree.

Seteth chuckled. “Byleth, I should probably let you know that I-”

“You’re no good at baiting the hooks. I overheard your chat with Leonie,” she interjected with a wink. “Why do you think I’m here? Besides, I never said we were here specifically to catch fish.”

“You...are correct,” he sighed, setting himself down on one of the willow’s many protruding roots, and beckoning for Byleth to join him.

They sat together in silence, with Byleth occasionally re-baiting the hook that Seteth cast out into the water. It was a long-forgotten yet familiar feeling to him, as he had done the same thing with his late wife incredibly long ago. They were without a care in the world, then, and he found himself feeling the same way now. He was brought out of his thoughts by an interesting sound. _Snoring?_ he thought, and looked down. Byleth had drifted to sleep, her head rested against his shoulder, arms about his waist.

They didn’t catch any fish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of all the people to start to figure out the truth about Seteth and Flayn, Claude is probably the best one.


	4. When Sinners are Saints

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Byleth and Seteth have a heartfelt conversation, some unfortunate speculation occurs - courtesy of Flayn, no less.

Byleth stirred, rolling from her back onto her side. Hints of clove and musk washed over her nose as she slowly began to process what was happening. She never recalled anything in her quarters smelling as such, which sent her brain rocketing to one conclusion.

_This isn’t my bed._

She shot up, taking in her surroundings. The first thing she noticed was the cup of tea, obviously meant for her, placed on the bedside table. The second thing was Seteth, lounging on the couch in front of the fireplace, focused on the book in his hands. She turned to the window and saw that the first light of dawn was just beginning to break over the horizon. When was the last time she had gotten a full night’s restful sleep after waking from her five-year slumber?

“So you’re finally awake.” It was Seteth’s turn to be cheeky, after the events of the other day. “You haven’t been sleeping well, if at all, have you,” he observed, the statement just that. It was no question that Byleth had been running on very little sleep, and she was embarrassed to admit the reason behind it.

“I’ve...been afraid I won’t wake up,” she replied sheepishly. She still couldn’t believe that she had slept so soundly that she didn’t wake at all when Seteth brought her back to his quarters in the monastery.

Seteth stood and walked over to the bed, perching on the edge. “Flayn was much the same way, once,” he began, weariness crossing his face. “After the War of Heroes, I thought I had lost her, too. She slept for far, far longer than you did. Hence why she still…” His voice trailed off. _Why she still looks like the child she was then_, he couldn’t bring himself to say. His wince softened when he saw the look of sympathy and concern on Byleth’s face.

Byleth sipped the tea that Seteth had poured for her. She hummed upon realizing it was still warm. “You didn’t have to do all this for me, you know.”

“And if I said I wanted to?” he asked. “It has been quite some time since I’ve been able to dote on someone other than Flayn.” There was a hint of playfulness in his voice, and it drew a chuckle out of her.

“I guess you’re right,” she admitted, shuffling over to the edge of the bed to drape an arm about his waist. “It’s just...not something I’m used to. Not that I can’t get used to it,” she quickly added, as feigned disappointment flashed across Seteth’s face. She set her the cup down and stood, bringing her arms overhead to stretch. Turning to face him, she asked, “Do you mind if I…” She let her voice trail off as she gestured towards what she assumed to be the bathroom.

It was as if Seteth didn’t hear her. He was too caught up in the simplicity of the sight before him. Everything had felt so natural up to this point, making him genuinely reflect on how long he had had these feelings - and how long he had suppressed them. He had inklings from before the battle for the monastery, but the fact that those feelings had survived the test of time -

He was brought back to the present when Byleth teasingly punched his shoulder. “It’s improper to ignore a lady when she speaks to you,” she teased. “Goddess, you’d think you were a schoolboy. Now, I’m going to take a bath.” She was so matter-of-fact about it this time, almost as if egging him on for a reaction.

“But...what about your clothes?” Seteth asked carefully. “You don’t exactly have any here.” He knew he was toeing a line, trying not to cross the boundaries he had set in place himself. While he was not exactly a stranger to this, he figured it was a gesture that Byleth would appreciate.

"I have a perfectly fine Saint who's capable of fetching me some," she called, not bothering to look back as she shut the bathroom door and began filling the tub.

It would've been possible to hear a pin drop as Seteth stood there, slack-jawed at her request - nay, her demand. He ran his hand through his hair, groaning in frustration. He let out a resigned sigh - it was time for him to stop lying to himself. It had only been a few days, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that his self-imposed desire to keep things slow was not for Byleth's benefit, but his own. And Goddess, was she making it difficult. He resigned himself to his fate as an errand boy and opened the door, nearly tripping over Flayn as he tried to leave.

"Oh, good morning, Brother! Do you know where the Professor is?" she asked. "I went by her quarters this morning to ask if she'd like to join me for breakfast, but she…" Suddenly, Flayn went quiet, tilting her head as if trying to listen. A knowing gleam came into her eye as she continued. "...I see she's otherwise occupied. I'll ask about doing lunch later, then!"

Seteth's cheeks were crimson as she playfully skipped away, realizing what she had implied. He didn't know which was worse, the fact that her mind went there, or the fact that someone taught her such things.

Perhaps it was luck, or maybe it was the sheer grumpiness evident on his face, but he wasn't interrupted in his quest to collect Byleth's things.

***

“I’m not turning around.”

Seteth stood with his back facing the bed, staring intently at the door to his quarters. When he had returned, he had hardly managed to set Byleth’s clothes on the bed before she walked out of the bathroom in naught but a towel lazily wrapped about her lithe frame.

“Are...are you embarrassed?” she teased, though for her it was somewhat of a front. She was grateful for his positioning, as she was flush in the face from both a hot bath and the thought of him seeing her naked.

He snorted. “Hardly.” He had his arms crossed, chewing his lip to keep from saying something he’d potentially regret. _Goddess, you truly are trying my patience_, he thought, feeling the tips of his pointed ears go red.

A mischievous grin crossed her face. She had finished dressing, but he didn't know that. She padded up to him quietly and went up on tiptoe. "Then what's the real reason?" she whispered, resting her hands on his shoulders.

His shoulders tensed, and he inhaled sharply. It took all of his willpower to not look at the woman behind him, trying to tempt him into turning around. He let out his breath with a huff.

“I’m still not turning around.”

“And if I said I was fully clothed?”

“Then I wouldn’t believe you.”

“I’m hurt that you wouldn’t trust the person that you’ve been oh-so-open with as of late,” Byleth said, her lips forming a pout as she stepped in front of him to walk towards the door. She took his hand as if to lead him out.

He didn’t budge.

“Seteth? Are...are you okay?” Her voice fell on somewhat deaf ears. She realized he had his nose pinched, and just followed his confused stare downward.

Somehow, some way, Seteth had gotten a nosebleed.

Byleth wordlessly handed him her handkerchief and simply marveled at the sight before her. Seeing Seteth in a state of discomposure was certainly rare, and she intended to use this next time she needed ammunition for teasing the man. “Do you need some help?” she managed to get out between giggles.

“There’s an easy way to fix this, you know,” he retorted, glaring at her from over his hand. He had the handkerchief pressed against his nose, lending his voice a slightly more nasal tone, which of course didn’t help with her current fit of giggles.

“Which is..?” she pressed, and laughed as she could practically hear his eyes rolling.

“You stop being as relentless as you are.”

“And if I said no?”

The words gave Seteth pause. What would he do in that case? It was becoming increasingly clear to him that she knew exactly what he wanted, especially given the smirk on her face. _You won’t be smirking when I’m done_, he thought, a devilish smile crossing his face. He set the handkerchief down, the nosebleed having stopped. Two quick steps was all it took for him to have Byleth against the wall, cupping her chin to tilt her head upwards.

“That depends on if that no is to be taken as a yes for...other things,” he mused.

The smirk stayed on her face as she provided an answer in the form of another question. “What else could it possibly mean?”

The amusement in her voice and the eager gleam in her eyes was all it took for him to give in. He grasped her hips and effortlessly lifted her into a fierce kiss. She wrapped her legs around him to allow herself the ability to deftly unfasten the buttons of his tunic. His hands shifted along her thighs to better carry her to the bed. It didn't take long for clothes to come off once Byleth found herself seated at the edge of the mattress. Their initial urgency abated, as the two internally decided that they would have all the time in the world for this.

Lavender mingled with musk as they traded kiss after kiss, fingers dancing along skin to trace muscle and scar - and given their respective pasts, there were plenty.

"Byleth," he murmured, pressing his forehead to hers, "if you don't want this-"

"Believe me, Seteth, I would've said something by now if that were the case," she interjected coyly. "Now shut up and kiss me."

Any and all cares flew out of their minds at that moment as he obliged, pushing her back onto the bed.

The world could wait.

***

"So you really don't know where they are?"

Claude and the rest of the former Golden Deer were gathered in one of the monastery's many meeting halls. Leaning against the window sill was Flayn, who had been adamantly denying any knowledge regarding the location of Seteth or the professor.

"I do not understand why you keep asking such a fruitless question," she said as she stared at the window. She hoped it was enough to prevent her former classmates from realizing the flush in her cheeks from telling such a blatant lie.

Claude ran his hand through his hair. "Okay, fine," he huffed. "Well, since Teach is nowhere to be found, we don't need to be here right now. I'll let you know if she turns up."

As everyone filed out, chattering amongst themselves - he's fairly certain he heard Linhardt complaining about how he could have slept in, given the circumstances - he grabbed Flayn by the wrist.

"Is there a reason you're making me stay?" she asked, wilting as Claude raised an eyebrow with a knowing smirk.

"Look. He's your…brother," he began. He had his suspicions, but figured it'd be best to keep them under wraps - clearly, if he was right, there was likely good reason for her to keep that secret. "Given how crazy he is about making sure you're safe, I have significant doubts that you wouldn't know where he is."

Flayn sighed, defeated. "I went looking for the Professor this morning to see if she wanted to get breakfast. I couldn't find her so I went to my brother to see if he knew, and…" She felt her cheeks and ears growing red.

_Oh, so_ that's _it._

"Let's...not tell the rest, okay?" He was fighting to not burst into laughter. "I don't think Sylvain's ego could take it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I vowed to myself long ago that I would never write smut and this chapter nearly broke me, so...that "omitted chapter" might happen later.


	5. Nearing the Endgame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> War with strangers is hard. War with former friends, even more so, and people need time to grieve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains spoilers for the GD route up through the end of Chapter 19.

"You need to rest."

Seteth knew it was a foolish demand of the woman gazing out the window. She had been on edge for days, if not weeks, and given the course of current events…

Gronder Field.

Enbarr.

It was one thing to have to be part of this war in the first place. Watching Dimitri fight - and fall - as though he were a feral animal was certainly harrowing. In fact, Gronder Field had turned into a macabre class reunion of sorts, one which left none unscathed. Their victory meant a pressing need to push forward, taking advantage of significantly weakened enemies without stopping to grieve their losses.

And then came the Battle for Enbarr.

He recalled the day they invaded the Imperial Palace and shuddered. Seteth had seen his fair share of death over the course of his many years, but there was something haunting about Edelgard's final words before ultimately being executed.

_"Your path lies across my grave. It is time for you to find the courage to walk it. If I must fall, let it be by your hand...I wanted...to walk with you-"_

Byleth's shoulders shook as she began to gently sob. "What if...what if I'm not strong enough?" she choked out, staring at the raindrops that were beginning to fall.

_Ah._

It was one thing to kill in the name of self-defense, but being forced into the situation that she was, having to kill a former student who simply had misguided views on the world, had obviously taken its toll on her mentally. In the few weeks that had passed since Enbarr, Byleth hadn't dared go anywhere near the Sword of the Creator, the very sword she used to cleave Edelgard's head from her shoulders.

And now she was terrified that she wouldn't have the strength to keep on killing.

"Byleth, listen to me," Seteth began, his voice hardly more than a whisper. "I know that this may not be what you want to hear, but...it never gets any easier. Take it from me." He walked over to her and gently turned her face towards him, brushing away tears with his thumbs. "The past few decades of my life at the monastery were probably the most peaceful, until you came along - but regardless, I've been fighting out of a sense of self preservation for over a millennium."

The slight teasing she sensed drew out a chuckle, and she sniffled as she started to regain her composure. Even knowing his true nature, it always surprised her when he was candid about just how long he had been wandering Fódlan, for both his sake and Flayn's.

"How do you manage it?" she asked, resting her ear against his chest. His heartbeat was strong and rhythmic, calming her further. Perhaps it was her own lack of heartbeat, but she found herself seeking that comfort more and more often in the past weeks.

Seteth cupped her cheek, looking her in the eye. "Never lose sight of why you have to fight," he responded, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. "And never forget that you have allies," he continued, gesturing to the courtyard below.

The light drizzle had quickly escalated to a thunderstorm, and it had monastery staff and former students alike rushing for cover. Byleth chuckled again when she saw Raphael run for the dining hall - even when the old classrooms were closer.

"Go to them," he prodded. "Let them know that we all stand against this together." He smiled warmly as he gently nudged her towards the door.

They were nearing the endgame now, and they could use all the motivation they could get.

***

"Something on your mind, Teach?"

Claude's voice echoed through the cathedral as he made his way to the pew where Byleth sat unmoving, head bowed.

"It's getting late," she muttered, not bothering to look up. "You should be getting rest for the journey that lies ahead."

"I could say the same about you," he returned with a smirk. "Listen, Teach, I know it's been rough, but...we look after our own. That includes you, and Flayn, and the rest. You know that, right?" He perched himself on his knees in the pew in front of her, facing her.

"You haven't had to do what I've done."

"Yeah, but we had to see it."

The brevity of Claude's response had Byleth on the verge of tears. Just what was she forcing her former students to handle? Five years ago, they were barely adults - and in fact, some were still children. But they had been thrown into the deep end of a bitter war all the same.

"None of you deserved this. I-"

"You had no part in events unfolding like they did. Edelgard would've still done what she did. No one here is blaming you for _anything_," he reassured her. He rose from his pew, offering one hand to Byleth while resting the other on the back of his head. "Come on, let's grab some food. I'm sure everyone would love to see you."

She sheepishly took his hand and brought herself to her feet, nodding.

Food sounded good.

***

"Professor!"

The force of Flayn leaping into a bear hug had Byleth rocking back on her heels. "Oh, Professor, I'm so glad you're spending time with us again!" Her expression was warm and full of love and understanding.

Byleth chuckled. "Flayn, you know you can call me Byleth now."

"But it feels strange! Even though you are...not many years my senior," Flayn said carefully, nearly revealing the truth to the whole dining hall in her excitement. "In any case, come! Claude had them prepare your favorite in the event he managed to persuade you out of your melancholy!"

Has she always been so persistent? Byleth mused to herself. A smile came to her face - her first genuine smile in far too long - after seeing a plate of shepherd's pie set aside just for her. She shook her head - these kids really did think of everything. As she sat down to eat, Flayn jumped up.

"Oh! I'll be right back. I have something I want to show you, but I left it in my room." She ran off without another word. Business in the dining hall continued as normal.

However, unbeknownst to Byleth, Flayn was not rushing to her room. Rather, she had made it her personal mission to drag her father to dinner as well, and by the Goddess, she would succeed.

***

Solid, rapid knocking pulled Seteth out of his work. With the upcoming journey to Shambhala, he had taken it upon himself to handle any requisitions necessary - anything to ease the stress on Byleth's shoulders, really. He pushed himself back from his desk, the chair scraping against the stone floor. He had hardly unlatched the door when Flayn bowled in, ensnaring him in one of her typical bear hugs.

"Brother! Come join us in the dining hall!" Her voice was bubbly - she was clearly excited, but Seteth couldn't figure out why.

"Flayn, why-"

She stopped her bouncing and gave him a playful look that only children are capable of. "Byleth is there, and she's happy," she interjected. Using Byleth's name felt weird, but if she insisted, she would use it. Her face grew somber as she took his hand in hers. "Brother, I know you've been trying to help her overcome her grief. Perhaps it would be beneficial to everyone for you to see the fruits of your labor."

Seteth let out a long sigh. Flayn was still very childlike - he had the dragonsleep to thank for that - but in moments like this, she showed wisdom and maturity far beyond her apparent years. He gestured in the direction of the stairs.

"Well, are you going to lead the way?"

Being practically dragged to the dining hall was worth the grin that beamed across her face.

***

In Flayn's absence, the remaining former students took it upon themselves to make the scene seem as normal as possible. The past few weeks have been tumultuous for them, too, and though they knew things would never be the same, the normalcy felt natural. The small talk, the gossip, the undying competition between Ferdinand, Lorenz, and Sylvain for most rejections.

They all knew that soon, they would be fighting an enemy they knew next to nothing about. But those demons and fears had no place in that dining hall on that night.

Claude was busy being a prankster, as could be expected, subtly knotting Hilda's pigtails together. He stopped when he felt a hand rest on his shoulder, and practically wilted under the disapproving glare Seteth sent his way. Opening his mouth to let forth some sort of excuse, he stopped when he realized Seteth was already gone, working on obtaining a plate of food. Hilda heard his sigh of relief, and that whole situation devolved rather quickly.

Seteth made his way to Byleth's seat, swapping out her empty plate with the full one he had just grabbed. In response to her look of protest, he chided, "You need to eat."

She snorted. "And you don't?" The ensuing smile was subtle, but it was there, gently turning up the corners of her lips.

He scoffed. "I didn't say I wasn't getting back in line, did I?"

When he returned, he took his seat opposite Byleth. Of course, dinner in the dining hall was as peaceful as it could be with the former Golden Deer around, but nothing prepared him for Flayn practically leaping onto the bench next to him, jostling him rather hard.

The mashed potatoes on his nose were enough to wrack Byleth with laughter.

"I am...sorry...Brother," Flayn struggled to say between giggles. "But it appears you have something on your nose."

Byleth reached over with a handkerchief. "What have we told you about running indoors, Flayn?" she teased, chuckling at the ensuing pout.

Seteth reached out for Byleth's hand, softly stroking it with his thumb. "Byleth," he said with a soft smile, "whatever may come, believe me when I say we'll face it together."

_And we'll get through this_, he thought. After all, he wasn't just fighting for Flayn any more.


	6. To A New Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The endgame has arrived, and Claude's plan to handle Nemesis's force backfires spectacularly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a relatively long chapter, so buckle up! Also, this is a GD final chapter headcanon, so the fight with Nemesis goes VERY differently.

_Shit, shit, shit._

Claude didn't see the strike, but he certainly saw the aftermath.

_This was_ not _supposed to happen._

Everything moved in slow motion as he watched, completely powerless to stop what was happening.

Byleth stood before Nemesis in a state of shock, blood pouring forth from a wound in her chest opened by his own Dark Sword of the Creator.

It wasn't supposed to end like this.

Claude shook his head and swooped down on his wyvern, snatching up Byleth and draping her over his wyvern's back before her legs had the chance to buckle. He was puzzled at first by Nemesis's lack of action, but the smirk on his face was damning.

Byleth was going to die.

"Claude...you're not supposed to be here." The professor's voice was calm as always, if not just a little breathy.

"Yeah, well, my gut told me otherwise, Teach," he replied, his face grim as he set off towards the back lines. Even in her state, Byleth found herself chuckling - though it came out more like a gurgle. Claude shook his head again, wondering how she was even able to find humor in this situation.

"Just don't die here, okay, Teach?" _Otherwise Seteth will kill me._

***

"Look's like Claude's on his way back, and...by the Goddess."

Linhardt lowered the spyglass from his face and paled. There was no mistaking it, even from here. Claude's trademark wyvern was white, so the only explanation for its pink tint was blood.

And it wasn't Claude's.

"What's wrong, Lin?" Hilda asked, taking the spyglass and looking through it. Just as Linhardt's had, her heart sank the instant she made out Claude - and the person bleeding out in front of him.

She backpedaled, practically thrusting the spyglass back into Linhardt's hands. "You get things prepped, I'll go get the others!"

Linhardt nodded as Hilda bolted off, screaming for any unoccupied healers to be ready and waiting for what was coming.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

***

Something felt incredibly off in Seteth's mind. He had protested this with every ounce of his being, and yet Byleth had been more stubborn than he - and she had the support of the students.

So of course it was reasonable that he would feel incredibly tense as Claude circled above Byleth and Nemesis both, and of course his heart leapt into his throat when he saw him dive down.

And it was absolutely crushed when he saw Claude flying full speed towards the main encampment, undoubtedly needing healing magic.

_I can't bear the thought of another Zanado._

The words he had spoken those many months ago echoed in his mind, as if to serve as a damning reminder of who he was - or wasn't. Seteth gritted his teeth, in borderline denial about the whole thing as he brought his wyvern around and made for the encampment at full speed.

There could not - no, there would not - be another Zanado.

***

Flayn could not contain her horrified gasp as she saw the state of Byleth's body, somehow still fighting to keep herself alive. Healers were running around, nearly as panicked as Claude was - and this was after the others telling him he did all he could.

What many had thought was a deep gash turned out to be a hole, and a ragged one at that. In addition to the physical wound were tendrils of what could only be assumed to be of necrotic origin spreading across her chest. The fact that she was still breathing was truly a miracle, and likely attributed to the divine powers her body housed. But Byleth was no goddess, and her body would succumb eventually.

The sight brought back memories that she had long since buried, of attempts to save someone very dear to her heart. She shook her head, bringing herself back to the present. _ I was younger then, weaker then. I can do this_, she thought, kneeling down to take Byleth's hand in her own. She drew in a deep breath, steadying herself and knowing what she had to do.

She stopped, however, when she heard the shouting coming from the edge of the encampment. Her heart broke in that moment as she made out her father's voice, cracking as it had over a millennium ago in an eerily similar situation.

***

"Let me see her!"

Seteth's voice was wrought with grief and frustration as he pushed aside other Knights of Seiros. While the others were typically understanding and ushered themselves away, Catherine refused to budge.

"Use your head, Seteth! You see the crowd around her already? You think she needs even more people?" Her voice was authoritative, but it came touched with sadness. The relationship between Rhea's advisor and the professor was no secret amongst those at the monastery, and so keeping Seteth away from Byleth was breaking her heart.

"I need to see her."

There was panic and fear in his voice, something that rattled her. Seteth was not a man to be afraid, but…

"Listen, Seteth, I can't just let you-"

She stopped when Manuela rested a hand on her shoulder, whispering something into her ear.

"I…go ahead," she muttered, stepping off to the side. Manuela nodded, her lips pursed.

He wasted no time in rushing past the pair, dropping to his knees at Byleth's side, despair washing over him.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

"Seteth," Byleth muttered, her voice raspy.

"Yes, my love?" He cradled her, fighting back tears as he brushed the hair out of her face.

"Promise me," she started, cupping his face with one hand, not caring about the blood that streaked as she ran a thumb over his cheekbone. "Promise that you won't cry for me," she finished with a soft smile, one that quickly turned into a grimace as she coughed, more blood trickling from the corner of her lips.

Seteth was poised to ask why, but as he opened his mouth to speak, she pressed her finger to his lips.

"Promise me, since I was so bad at keeping mine."

Her slight smile stayed on her face even after her last breath, her hand slowly dropping from Seteth's face.

No one could hear, but his shoulders shook with sobs as he buried his face in her hair.

It wasn't supposed to end like this.

"Father, I think I-"

Something snapped inside him.

"That is enough, Cethleann."

His voice was cold and steady as he slowly rose to his feet. His face, covered in blood and tears, was set in an expression of grim determination, and his pupils had shrunk to narrow slits.

It wasn't supposed to end like this, but it was time for it to end all the same.

***

"Father, please, you can't…"

Flayn's pleas fell on deaf ears as she watched her father turn away and walk across the plain, spear in hand, towards the reason for all of this. Tears streamed down her face as the gravity of her father's words finally hit her.

"He doesn't plan on coming back, does he," Claude said more than asked. There was no mistaking the look on his face, eschewing grief in favor of a deep-seated rage and sense of resignation. It was the face of a man who intended to kill fate, or die trying.

"I've only seen him like this once," Flayn choked out between her own sobs. "Only last time, I was...far from capable, and on the brink of death myself."

Claude had many questions, the biggest of which being how Seteth had called her. It was too much of a coincidence, and he had already pieced most of it together himself, but…now was not the time for such questions. He was lost in his own thoughts when he heard Flayn mumbling, almost to herself.

"There is a way...there's no guarantee, but…" Flayn sniffled as she ran her fingers through Byleth's hair. "I've only tried it once, to save Mother, and, well…" Her voice trailed off as she took a deep breath to steady herself. "Anyway, I might…fall asleep for some time, after this. Make sure my father doesn't worry."

Claude ran a hand through his hair and chuckled, struggling to wrap his mind around the responsibility thrust upon him. _Seteth is going to kill me if he gets back._ "You're in good hands, Flayn. You'll be safe with us."

The words brought a smile to Flayn's face, soft and warm. "Thank you, Claude. For everything."

Claude opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out as he marveled at the sight before him.

Flayn balled one hand up into a fist over her heart while resting the other on the wound on Byleth's chest. A hint of green flame tipped with gold began to dance along her fingertips. "Sothis...grandmother," she whispered, her eyes squeezed shut as though deep in prayer. "If you're truly in there...bring her back." The flames moved with a will of their own, then, drawn towards that ragged hole, increasing in brightness such that Claude had to avert his gaze. The whole spectacle only lasted a few seconds, and in mere moments nothing seemed different - until Flayn collapsed to the side.

At the end of it all, Claude could only think one thing.

_Oh yeah, Seteth's_ definitely _going to kill me._

***

To an outsider, it would appear as though this green-haired man was on a path of self-destruction, marching headlong towards inevitable death against an insurmountable enemy - and that assumption would be painfully close to the truth.

And yet, onward Seteth marched, the tip of his spear carving out a trench behind him. Though his head was hung in what many would believe was defeat, the snarl on his face - a primal embodiment of pure rage - suggested otherwise. His steps carried him, unwavering, until he was merely a stone's throw away from his target.

"Nemesis," he growled, bringing the point of his spear level with Nemesis's face.

"Cichol," came the reply, the voice deep and gravelly. "How kind of you to bring me the Spear of Assal - it'll make a fine addition to the collection, don't you think?" A dark grin twisted across Nemesis's face, made all the more grotesque by the fact that the restoration of his body was less than complete.

"You will pay for what you've done." Seteth's level tone was a shock, considering the unadulterated anger and hatred held in his expression. The slits of his pupils narrowed as his nostrils flared, eager for any opportunity to avenge not just Byleth, but all the others who fell at Zanado - something he should have done all those many years ago.

"Then deliver me to hell, O Saintly One," he taunted, that grotesque grin giving way to something cold and calculating. "Do unto me what Rhea did those few years ago - or could it be that you can't?"

While it was all meant as a taunt, Nemesis received an answer in the form of Seteth crashing against him with wild abandon. The sheer force with which Seteth struck, time and again, was surprising, and it brought that wretched smile back to his face. The truth of the matter was becoming increasingly clear with each blow parried and the ferocity of Seteth's strikes.

Only one would make it out alive.

***

_Now you've really gone and done it. Why did you think challenging Nemesis one-on-one was a good idea?!_

The voice, though high-pitched and nagging, sounded muted to Byleth's ears, as though they were submerged in a lake.

_And now you're ignoring me? Or are you still asleep? I was right when I said boulders have more sense!_

It was Sothis. Byleth tried to speak, but everything in her mind was muddled and her throat was as dry as the desert sands.

_Each time I tell myself it's the last, but...I cannot ignore my own granddaughter. They all need you. It's time for you to wake up, fool of mine._

Her eyes snapped open and she jolted upright, gasping for breath. "Sothis!" she called, her hand reaching out as if to grab something, though there was nothing in the air for her to take. She felt where the gaping hole in her chest had been, and found it to be a mass of scar tissue. As her vision slowly returned, she began to hear snippets of conversation around her, hushed whispers rapidly turning to frantic shouting.

"Claude! Claude, she's alive! Damn, where'd he go?" she heard Sylvain call out.

_If Claude is here and in charge, then that must mean Seteth…_

Her thinking halted in its tracks. She couldn't bear to imagine a situation where he was as dead as she was not five minutes ago. Her brow was furrowed when she felt a soft hand upon her shoulder - Marianne was propping her up, it seemed, offering her a bowl of water.

After downing it in a few large gulps, Byleth finally brought herself to ask the question she dreaded the answer to. "Where's Seteth?" She winced, as her throat was still dry and irritated. 

"That old man? He's gone to be an even bigger fool than you." Claude's voice rang out, and he extended a hand to help Byleth to her feet. "I know you don't like to leave a job unfinished, Teach."

She groaned as she pulled herself up, steadying herself for a few moments. A fiery determination shone in her eyes as she said, "Bring me to him. And make sure you fly high and fast."

The last bit gave Claude pause, and it dawned on him just what Byleth intended to do. And though her expression was fire, her next words were as cold as the winter snow.

"I'm going to make that bastard hurt."

***

It wasn't supposed to end like this.

Seteth winced as the dagger plunged hilt-deep into his gut, but he didn't care. Nothing could break him more than fate already had. Realization hit him as his body succumbed to stress and fatigue, sinking to his knees, bracing himself against his spear.

"It seems we've reached a conclusion," hissed Nemesis. He dug his fingers into Seteth's hair, forcibly turning his head to face the encampment. "Look how they watch, knowing their hope is dead. One has even fled the field," he mocked, gesturing towards Claude's white wyvern, rapidly climbing above any cloud cover.

_Claude, of all people?_ Seteth wondered, but he hung his head, defeated. "You won't win this," he coughed, his breathing ragged from the pain in his side.

"Bold words for the second-in-command of an army that sent their two strongest against me to die."

"Then let me say that we won't lose."

Those words drew out a guffaw from Nemesis. "Then what would you call this?"

"Penance for my sins," Seteth replied, determination returning to his eyes. Claude had to be up to something, and while he couldn't figure out what, he could postpone the inevitable.

But the sands of time will eventually stop for everyone, and he knew that his had run out. Seteth glared up at Nemesis, defiant in the face of what was perceived by many to be unavoidable doom.

"Then die," Nemesis growled, hoisting the Dark Sword of the Creator up high.

It was never supposed to end like this.

***

"Well, Teach, this is your stop," Claude mused. "It looks like it's getting bad down there. I hope your entrance is enough to shake things up."

Byleth chuckled. "Never change, Claude. And don't wait for us - we'll walk back," she replied, fire shining in her eyes.

And with that, she fell.

***

Nemesis paused his swing as a swirl of green flames streaked across the sky, hurtling into the ground with bone-shattering force. _Impossible_, he thought with a grimace.

There stood Byleth, her body wreathed in emerald flame, Sword of the Creator extended before her.

"Nemesis! I don't think we're finished." Her voice cut through the air like a knife, and made it painstakingly clear that this time, there would be no second chances.

_So that was it, you sly bastard_, Seteth thought, realizing Claude's whole plan was to get here unseen. His heart was saddened a bit, however, when he realized what the likely cost of Byleth's return was.

But that was a problem for another day.

Nemesis stepped around him, almost as though he didn't exist. "Why won't you stay dead!" he shouted, using his sword as a whip and lashing out towards Byleth.

She didn't care as she planted her feet to run. The tip of the sword grazed her cheek, but the green flames around her body healed the scratch as quickly as it happened. She took the blade in hand and pulled, the sheer force of it taking Nemesis by surprise as the hilt left his hand.

"It's time to end this!" she cried, taking the hilt of her sword in both hands.

Nemesis tried to back away, but realized very quickly that he could not.

With what little strength he had left, Seteth thrust the Spear of Assal through his back, the point protruding from his chest.

Fate comes for everyone.

The last thing Nemesis would ever see was Byleth swinging the Sword of the Creator, cleaving his head from his shoulders.

***

With Nemesis dead, the army that had stood behind him began to crumble to ash and dust. The fire that wreathed Byleth dissipated, and she nearly collapsed from exhaustion.

But even that level of fatigue couldn't stop her from running up to Seteth, pressing a hand to his wound to heal it. "You're a great big fool, do you know that?" she fussed. "Besides, didn't I tell you not to cry for me?"

"Apologies for being taken to two emotional extremes in rapid succession," he replied dryly, wrapping her in a warm embrace that she reciprocated. "I can't believe you're alive," he murmured into her hair.

"Yeah, well, neither can anyone else, including me," she joked. "Come on, I told Claude we'd be walking back - or would you rather I carry you?" Seteth's glare caused her to burst into laughter as she pulled his arm across her shoulders.

It was time to go home.


	7. New Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of a five-year war brings necessary changes, and people's lives must continue on.

Whoops and hollers greeted their ears as Byleth and Seteth approached the camp. While the army as a whole cheered for their overall victory, the former Golden Deer rushed to congratulate the two responsible for bringing it all to an end. Mercedes wasted no time in hurrying forward, providing more healing magic for the wound that had reopened on Seteth's belly.

"Where's Flayn?" he asked, fraught with more worry for his daughter than himself.

"Fast asleep in your tent," she replied, her voice as serene as always. "She warned us this might happen." A gentle smile crossed her face, coupled with a warm chuckle. "She'll be so happy to know you're both fine."

Byleth could feel his shoulders heave with a sigh of relief. It was taking everything she had to hold him upright, so she herself was relieved when Raphael came to prop him up.

"Come on, everyone," Byleth said, her voice weary. "It's time for us to go home."

***

The ensuing celebration at Garreg Mach was akin to the Ethereal Moon feast Byleth had experienced during her brief tenure as a professor. There was no shortage of wine, and the cooks worked tirelessly to ensure a seemingly endless supply of food to all present. Her former students were up to their usual antics. She counted her blessings that they all had survived the war, though losses could be felt elsewhere. But none of that mattered tonight, as everyone was making merry in honor of the memory of those they lost.

“Hey, Teach?” Claude’s voice was soft as he lightly tapped her on the shoulder. “I’ve got some important business to discuss with you and Rhea, if you don’t mind.”

A quizzical look flashed across her face. _What could he possibly want, and why now?_ she wondered. “Certainly - best to do it now before I get buried in paperwork,” she replied, following him out of the dining hall to one of the tea gardens.

“My dear, sweet child.” Rhea’s voice carried over the breeze like windchimes. “I...am sorry to have imposed all of this upon you,” she continued, her words heavy with regret.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Byleth responded as she sat across from her, “if I could turn back time, I wouldn’t say no.”

Rhea’s eyes lit up at the jest. She knew, probably better even than Byleth, just how much havoc Sothis could wreak with her control over time. “Anyway, I called you out here for a reason,” she said, the authority returning to her voice. “The war is ended, and Fódlan will need a ruler, one...far less jaded and arrogant than I.”

“Why not Claude?” Byleth suggested, and truly to her the choice made sense. He had already proven himself to be a strong leader of the Alliance, tactfully keeping their faction out of the war until the need to align themselves arose.

Claude coughed. “See, here’s the thing, Teach. I’m needed back in Almyra. I’m the crown prince after all, and, well...let’s just say the health of my old man isn’t what it used to be.”

“Oh, so you need my advice with suggestions, then? Ferdinand has made great strides when it comes to…” Her voice trailed off when she caught the pair casting each other knowing glances, seeming to have a wordless conversation. Rhea chuckled when Byleth pointed towards herself with an incredulous look on her face.

“You’ve already united some of the strongest houses in Fódlan, Teach. It’s not like you’d be alone in this.”

Byleth let out a nervous laugh. “While I appreciate the sentiment, let me just...think it over first.” With that, she stood and made her way back to the dining hall.

She didn’t hear Rhea’s sigh, or Claude’s matter-of-fact, “I told you so.”

***

"People heard you, you know," Flayn pouted, as she and her father trudged back to his quarters. She had awoken shortly before the feast, and no amount of fretting from Seteth could keep her away from the smell of freshly cooked fish. But they had both overdone it, it seemed, as fatigue quickly washed over both.

"I...was not myself," he sighed, knowing what was coming next.

"Of course you weren't! _You_ were always the one to preach about how it was 'vital to our survival' to conceal who we really were, and here you go spilling the beans. Gah!" Flayn threw her hands up in frustration.

"Did you not hear yourself call me father beforehand?" Seteth asked, reaching for his key to unlock the door.

"If you thought no one had it figured out, you're sorely mistaken," Flayn chided. "Did you not see yourself fretting like a mother duck when I was kidnapped?"

_Goddess, she sounds like her mother_, Seteth thought, a fleeting smile gracing his lips until he realized his door was already unlocked. Unusual, unless…

He slowly pushed the door open, relief washing over him when he realized it was only Byleth, sitting on the edge of the bed and burying her face into a pillow.

"Seteth! Thank the Goddess," Byleth exclaimed, rushing over to him and wrapping him in a hug. "Rhea has decided she wants to abdicate, and Claude has to return to Almyra to rule, and they want me to be queen, and -"

She hushed when Seteth pressed a finger to her lips. "One thing at a time, love," he said, his eyes teasing. "But first, Flayn, where are you going?"

"I am going to dance some more with my friends, thank you!" she called back flippantly. She came running back to the doorway, and with a wink, she teased, "I'll tell them you were both tired and needed to sleep."

The door slamming shut couldn't drown out her laughter at Seteth's beet-red face.

***

"Do you really have to go back to Almyra?" Flayn asked, standing off to the side with a cup of tea.

Claude shrugged. "It's not so much a matter of if, it's when. Even if I choose to abdicate and come back to House Riegan, there's still the issue of settling any existing matters before leaving for good."

"Oh."

Flayn was quiet, but her voice held the slightest edge of disappointment. She didn't want Claude to leave, not after everything they'd been through together. She was glad to have her tea cup, as she would be wringing her hands nonstop otherwise.

"I've been meaning to ask you this for a while now. If...you'd want to come with me, that is," Claude said, nerves making his throat run dry. It wasn't necessarily Flayn's response he was worried about.

Her face lit up. "Me? Go with you? A-are you sure?" she squeaked. "I mean, yes, I'd love to! Oh, but we'd have to tell my -"

Her prattling stopped when Claude bent down to plant a kiss atop her head. He laughed as a brilliant shade of crimson spread across her face from her cheeks. 

"If you're concerned about your old man, well...I think Teach can handle him." Claude threw her one of his trademark playful winks and stretched out his hand. "Well, Flayn, shall we dance?"

She set down her tea and took his hand, pure glee on her face. "Of course! Just don't tell my father."

***

The next morning, Byleth sat at the desk in Seteth's quarters, sipping on some tea and rolling a small object between her fingers. Her father's - her mother's? - ring was a simple affair, as well as the words she associated with it.

_I hope you love them just as much as I loved her._

It had been five years since her father spoke those words to her. Back then it seemed almost a fool's errand - she had never truly shown affection, or any emotion at all, really. But then Sothis woke up, and had to learn about all of these things like hate and joy.

And love.

She thought back to the note Seteth had left her. She was reluctant to leave bed, and so he had left without her.

_Meet me at the steps of the cathedral when you awaken. There are important matters we must discuss._

Byleth pursed her lips and sipped some more tea. She felt that she might be reading into it a little too much, but she was willing to take the chance all the same. Emotions were running high for everyone, and she still hadn't processed the fact that she planned to tell Rhea that she would take the throne after some encouragement from Seteth.

"I truly am Sothis's little fool," she muttered, pushing herself back from the desk. Ring in hand, she began her trek to the cathedral. If she was wrong, so be it.

But she was hoping she was right.

***

"Ah, here she comes! If you have need of me, Father, I'll be at the wyvern rookery," Flayn called, bouncing off and tossing her hand up in a wave.

Seteth inhaled to scold her, but the sound just came out as a disgruntled harumph. Byleth was right about a lot of things concerning Flayn, but that didn't mean he had to be happy about it.

"I told you already, you have to let her go at some point," she said with a knowing smirk. Seteth's stern facade faded as he turned to face her. "Well? You're the one who said we had important things to discuss."

"Ah, yes," he said, taking a moment to clear his throat. "If you would follow me." He offered her his arm, and she gladly took it as they strolled toward the Goddess Tower.

"So what are you going to do about the name problem?" She was genuinely curious, as Flayn had become rather open with her usage of the word "Father."

"I simply told everyone who heard that it was a family name," he responded. "It's not technically a lie, you know!" he countered as Byleth guffawed.

"You aren't wrong about that."

"I like to not be wrong about things. And hopefully…" Seteth's voice trailed off as they stopped at the foot of the tower, a gentle breeze blowing wisps of hair into their faces. _Hopefully I'm not wrong about this._ "Do you recall the legends the students have about the Goddess Tower? Particularly at the time of the ball."

"About how supposedly the Goddess will hear your wish and it will be fulfilled?" she replied. "I find it amusing now, knowing the source of my powers."

Seteth chuckled. "Yes, well, then. Forgive me for playing into foolish superstition."

Byleth was so caught up in what he could mean that she didn't see him drop down to one knee, nor did she notice that he took a ring of his own out of his pocket, the emeralds set within it sparkling in the morning sun.

"I will just come out with it. I love you, deeply. Will you marry me?"

“Seteth, I -”

“Our fates have already been intimately entwined, but I could not help but imagine how lovely it would be to exchange vows.” A slight blush tinted his cheeks a gentle pink. “And I hope that you understand that this is not out of a sense of duty, nor for any other reason than the fact that I am completely, utterly in love with you. The five years you were gone were...well, frankly put, they were horrible, and I would much rather that not happen again. So please -” Seteth paused as Byleth began to giggle like a small child, her hand over her mouth.

“When you ask a question, Seteth, it’s appropriate to wait for an answer,” she said between giggles. “Anyway, it’d be a lie to say I didn’t intend to ask the same.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out her own ring, amethysts glittering.

There was no mistaking the reverence on Seteth’s face, nor the tears pooling at the corners of Byleth’s eyes. Seteth rose and wrapped her in a warm embrace, placing his lips to hers in a gentle kiss. The two were so absorbed in each other that they didn’t realize Flayn had returned from her brief expedition to the rookery.

“If you two lovebirds are quite finished, Lady Rhea would like to speak with you in the audience chamber,” she said, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “Or...shall I tell her you are otherwise occupied?”

Seteth shared a dry look with his now-fiancée. “You’ve been spending too much time with Claude,” he called, reluctantly turning to make for the monastery proper.

“Is that such a bad thing?” she shot back, laughter coming forth as Seteth’s face scrunched at the words. “I will go tell Rhea you’re on your way,” she stated, spinning around and practically skipping back to the cathedral.

Seteth let out a deep sigh. “The country just got out of this war. They need stability, and faith in their leaders. This...might not help.”

“I know,” Byleth said, her voice tinged with a subtle sadness. “The world doesn’t need to see it right away. Priorities. But I see no problem with our friends knowing,” she continued. And she had a point - their relationship hadn’t exactly been secret, not after Claude had announced it to everyone in the courtyard all those months ago.

“By the way, when I’m queen, I intend to let there be some autonomy for what remains,” she began casually. “And for that, I will need a prime minister.”

“Ah, then I suppose you will need a list of candidates,” he replied, blissfully unaware of the smirk on Byleth’s face. “I would recommend...what is so funny?” His face was playfully stern as she fought to contain fits of laughter.

“If you aren’t on your own list, I’m ignoring your opinion.”

“Byleth, please take the future of this country seriously,” he huffed.

“Oh, I am,” she said, taking in the surprised look on his face. “You’re probably the most experienced person I know regarding matters like this, so please, if you would do me the honor…”

_Goddess, what have I gotten myself into_, he thought, running a hand through his hair. “It seems I am doomed to a life of servitude,” he sighed, feigning defeat. “Now come,” he said, prodding her along. “Rhea awaits.”

***

“You’re later than Flayn said you would be,” Rhea called, a bemused expression across her face. The embarrassment evident on both their faces drew out a chuckle, light and airy. “Well, dear child? Have you made your choice?”

Byleth’s throat ran dry. She had rehearsed it plenty of times, but now that the time came to actually deliver her decision, the words just wouldn’t come out. Seteth offered her a small nod of encouragement as she looked back for support. Drawing in a deep breath to steady herself, she brought herself to say the two words that scared her so much.

“I accept.”

Excitement lit up Rhea’s eyes, but her voice remained cordial as always. “Excellent! This is incredibly short, but I can see no better opportunity than while your former students are here. Would you be ready to assume your duties tomorrow?”

Seteth coughed at that. “Rhea, surely you cannot -”

Another chuckle came from Rhea. “Relax, Seteth. It is meant in jest - while the children would be adequate representatives, we still must notify the remaining heads of house. You wouldn’t take the throne until the end of Wyvern Moon at the earliest,” she said, turning her attention to an obviously relieved Byleth.

“Go tell them,” Seteth said, once again prodding her toward the door. “Rhea and I will handle everything for now.”

“Thank you,” Byleth whispered, planting a soft kiss on his cheek before walking towards the door.

“Oh, and Byleth?”

She froze. She had been around the monastery for quite some time now, and this was the first time Rhea had called her by name.

“Despite his...distrust of the Church, Jeralt would be very proud of the woman you’ve become.”

A wistful smile graced her lips as she made her way from the audience hall.

Things were about to get busy.


	8. Where You Lead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was time for Byleth to assume her new role as Fódlan's new queen.

"Now, Byleth, if you can't keep from chewing your lip, I can't finish," Mercedes fussed, holding her makeup palette to the side.

"I don't get why I can't just go looking the way I normally do," Byleth protested. If she had the coronation her way, she'd be plain-faced in trousers and a tunic. Certainly not...whatever this was.

"And deny Seteth the chance to see you like this? Oh, I'm dying to see the look on his face," Hilda teased. She was lounging on the sofa, helping herself to some tea. "It'll be a struggle for him to keep it together, that's for sure."

"And why is that?" Byleth asked, raising an eyebrow and drawing some tuts from Mercie in the process.

"Because you're going to be drop-dead gorgeous? Isn't that obvious?"

She felt Dorothea's chuckle, the women's fingers deftly weaving her hair into fine braids. "That, and he's absolutely smitten by you, By," she said, the words drawing a blush to Byleth's cheeks.

"I just...what if I'm not cut out for this?" Byleth's voice was laced with doubt.

Everyone in the room shot her a glare of disappointment.

"Look," Ingrid said while stuffing a biscuit into her mouth, "if you can get people like us to work with Sylvain, or Lorenz, or Ferdinand...you'll be fine."

"Hey Ingrid, did no one ever teach you to not talk with your mouth full?" Hilda asked.

The two had their own little spat, too quiet for the others to hear, until a soft knock came from the door.

"I have regret for being late. Accept my apologies." Her tongue still hadn't quite grasped the nuances of Fódlan's language, but that didn't change the sentiment in Petra's words.

"Petra!" Bernadetta hopped up from her chair and ran to give the ruler of Brigid a warm hug. "I didn't think you'd be able to make it!"

Petra giggled. "I would not be missing it!" She took a cup of tea offered by Lysithea and went to stand over by Byleth. "You are looking beautiful," she said. "It is good that you will be Fódlan's new leader."

"I appreciate the kind words, everyone," Byleth said, her voice betraying the slightest hint of nerves. _This was a mistake_, she thought, _but it's far too late to turn back._

"Aha!" Annette's triumphant cry came from the corner, where she and Marianne had been working to adjust the beading and ruching of the robes that Byleth would inevitably have to wear.

"We tried our best to make it more comfortable," Marianne said, her soft voice hiding a sense of worry. "Sorry if it's not ideal."

The sight took her breath away. The bodice had been let out enough so that she'd be able to breathe, for starters. But they had also tailored the sleeves so that they were similar to her own coat, loose to the elbow then fitted through the forearm with similar tails flowing from the joint. The emerald silk served as the perfect backdrop for the intricate beading on the chest, similar to the scrollwork on the students' uniforms at the Officer's Academy. They had shortened the skirt to knee-length, rendering the robe more of a tunic, coupled with a pair of white trousers. What was truly stunning, however, was the embroidery on the cape. The Crest of Flames shone proudly in silver thread against the dark green velvet.

"You two...truly outdid yourselves," Byleth murmured, tears coming to her eyes.

"Now, Byleth, don't cry. Do you want me to start over?"

"...No."

It didn't take long to finish getting ready after that, and another knock interrupted her former students' adoration of her.

"Hey Teach, you ready?" Claude stood in the doorway with his classic smirk.

"I still can't believe you made it," Byleth replied, boot heels clacking against the stone as she marched over to give him a hug. "I take it you're my escort?"

"Yeah, Seteth mentioned something about 'keeping up appearances,'" he replied with a chuckle.

"You mean he's afraid of breaking face," she said matter-of-factly. "As if he doesn't have enough to worry about with you here to distract him."

At that moment, Flayn came bouncing down the hallway. "Byleth!" she called. "I am so glad I found you before the ceremony. Here!" She reached up and placed a white lily in her hair, tucked behind her ear. "You will do great," she said, her voice reassuring as she wrapped Byleth in another hug. Sticking her head in the door, she called out to all the other occupants of the room. "Come on, everyone, it's time for us to go!"

Everyone filed out of the room, offering pats on the shoulder and words of encouragement as they made their way to the cathedral.

"With you all hidden away like that, you'd think yourself getting married, huh, Teach," he observed, offering Byleth his arm.

"If the stress is anything to go by, I'd have to agree with you," she replied with a chuckle.

Byleth kept a firm grip on Claude's arm for the rest of their short walk. As they neared the foot of the bridge leading to the cathedral, Claude paused. "Well, are you ready?"

_Never_, she thought, before replying with a resigned voice, "As ready as I'll ever be." She smiled when Claude threw her a reassuring wink.

"Now let's go put that crown on your head."

***

Seteth glanced around as dignitaries filed into the cathedral, taking in the work that had been put in to make it all possible. There hadn't been much time to rebuild, but the rubble had been cleared mainly through Cyril's efforts. His devotion to Rhea was nearly fanatical, but he was easily able to obtain the aid of others. Many had suggested an alternate location for the coronation, but Seteth repeatedly disagreed. _What a better place for the birth of a new nation_, he mused, _than the remnants of what came before._

As the trickle of people slowed, a rather large group - all former students, he realized - rushed through the door to find their seats, which could only mean Byleth wasn't far behind. His suspicions were confirmed when Claude slipped through the now-shut door, nodding towards him. It was time, and Seteth was nowhere near ready for what was waiting behind those heavy wooden doors. When Claude was seated, he nodded towards the Knights of Seiros flanking the doors.

The doors creaked open, serving as the cue for everyone in the cathedral to rise. Sunlight streamed through the open doorway, and standing tall and regal at the center was Byleth, flanked by Catherine and Alois. The light danced off the beading of her robes and the golden scepter she held in her right hand, white knuckles betraying her anxiety. A softly glowing halo formed from the light behind her, and the sight nearly brought Seteth to his knees with awe.

_Goddess help me_, he thought, a slight blush rushing to his cheeks. Seteth was, in fact, failing spectacularly at keeping it together. As she neared, he caught a glimpse of something sparkling on her finger. His heart leapt into his throat when he realized that it was her ring. _Please let that go without notice_, he thought, absolutely dreading the potential questions. _So much for subtlety._

Byleth approached on her own, with Alois and Catherine having stopped at the end of the pews. She stopped herself maybe three feet from Rhea, her back to the crowd. Seteth took a moment to swallow the lump in his throat before stepping around her, careful to stay free of the small train of her cape.

Time froze. _She may be ready, but am I?_ he wondered, doubt creeping through his mind. He shut his eyes, drawing in a deep breath and remembering a promise he made to her long ago.

_Where you lead, I will follow._

He opened his eyes, ready to make good on his promise. He called out to the crowd, his voice echoing off the stone walls of the cathedral. “People of Fódlan, noble and commoner alike. Byleth stands before you all, ready to lead you as one. Those of you who have come to bear witness, are you willing to pledge your allegiance to her as she does to you?”

Though there had been no rehearsal, the chorus of “We are, and we shall” was called out in near-unison.

Hearing no signs of dissent, Seteth offered a curt nod and took his place at Rhea's flank. His role was done, but things weren't over just yet. Byleth knelt on the ground at Rhea's feet, head bowed in reverence.

Rhea's voice was cordial as always as she began to minister the oath. "Byleth Eisner, do you hereby promise and swear to govern the peoples of Fódlan according to their respective laws and customs?"

Byleth's response was quiet, but strong-willed. "I solemnly promise to do so."

"Will you, as permitted by your power, cause law and justice, with mercy, to be executed with your judgments?"

"I will."

"Will you, in your capacity as queen, uphold the laws of this land? Will you provide your strength to the people you serve, in times of war and of prosperity? Will you do all in your power to serve this country for the benefit of your people?"

"All this I promise to do."

Rhea turned to her left, where Cyril stood holding a velvet pillow. Resting upon it was a tiara, silver metal wrought into the shape of the Crest of Flames, flanked by emeralds of varying size. She gently nestled it amongst the braids in Byleth's hair, and prompted her to stand.

Byleth turned to address the crowd, her cape swirling about her feet. Looking out at them, she announced her proclamation. "The things I have here promised, I will perform, and keep."

Cheers of "All hail the Queen!" echoed throughout the cathedral, making Seteth's heart swell with pride. It was crystal clear that the people loved her, proving her to be the perfect candidate to unify the country. He didn't hear himself as his voice joined with the crowd.

_Where you lead, I will follow._

And so it was on the thirty-first day of the Ethereal Moon in the year 1186, on the cusp of the new year, Byleth Eisner was crowned Queen of Fódlan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why yes, I did take inspiration from the coronation oath sworn by Queen Elizabeth II, thanks for asking.


	9. A Little Push

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seteth is forced to face reality, and accept the things he cannot change - or control. Fortunately for him, he's not alone, and sometimes the passage of time is more sweet than bitter.

On the eve of the Great Tree Moon the following year, Byleth found herself reclined in bed, a piece of parchment held above her face. It was a letter from Flayn, and the contents brought a heartfelt smile to her face. With the exception of the coronation, she’d been gone for about five, maybe six months, and Byleth was fairly certain that Seteth was in denial about the whole thing. 

In his defence, it would benefit anyone to be wary of Claude von Riegan.

_“Byleth,_

_I considered penning this letter to both you and my father, but I fear that he will not take this news too well - you know how he is. Anyhow, Claude has proposed, and I’ve decided to say yes. Though a date has not been decided, we are thinking of some time early fall - we won’t leave you out, don’t worry. Please make sure my father’s heart doesn’t break when he reads this. Know that I love you both dearly, and that I sincerely hope that circumstances allow you to be open as Claude and I can be._

_Flayn”_

Though it was written, Byleth couldn't help but detect a sense of playfulness in the words. She and Seteth had been a private affair for the country's sake - while many on the inside understood just how qualified he was, there was doubt as to those on the outside accepting a newly-appointed queen making her lover her right hand.

The sound of a key turning brought her out of her thoughts, having the presence of mind to tuck the letter under her pillow. "You're back late," she called, lazily rolling over and propping herself up on her elbows. "You need to stop doing this, or you'll work yourself to death."

Byleth wasn't wrong. He had been working incredibly late recently, staying in his office long after others had gone to dinner, and on rare occasion after Byleth had gone to bed. "Nonsense," he replied, "I'm working as much as I was while Rhea was archbishop."

Byleth snorted. Either that was a lie, or there was something else at play, and she had a decent idea of what it was. "You're worried," she said with a smirk.

"I most certainly am not," he shot back, indignant.

"That's an awfully defensive response for someone who isn't worried," Byleth teased, pushing herself off the bed. "Look, Flayn will be fine. She's been fine for this long."

Seteth sighed. "You...are right," he conceded, sinking into the couch and rubbing his temples. He hummed upon feeling a gentle touch on his shoulders, her fingers making swift work of the knots in his muscles. 

"Besides," she whispered, her lips brushing against his cheek. He could feel her grin, and was internally dreading whatever mischief she was planning. "You're not the only one who has to worry about her any more."

"Just because you've…" he paused, thinking about all that had happened in the past six months. He winced as he thought about the fight they'd all had when Flayn told them of her decision to join Claude in Almyra. As much as he hated to admit it, there was something budding there, and it had taken all of Byleth's efforts to convince him to let it happen.

She felt his shoulders tense with the realization of what she meant. "Claude's smart. He'll keep her just as safe as you would."

Seteth visibly deflated, letting out a long sigh as he tilted his head back. "I am by no means okay with this," he groaned. "I'm simply -"

"Too tired to do anything about it?" Byleth finished for him, curling up on the couch beside him. "It's alright. You have a few months to figure it out. And one more thing," she said, entwining her fingers with his. "She also wishes for a world where we can share our happiness."

As she nuzzled into him, he couldn't help but slowly accept that which his heart found inevitable. He could only hope that he had done right by Flayn, but regret touched his heart at the realization of how much she had grown through the help of her peers. All the years he'd spent sheltering and protecting her had only served to hold her back.

Perhaps it was time for him to let go.

***

Claude paced around the room, fidgeting with the buttons on his tunic. The garment of black and gold silk was a stuffy one, but it was one of the concessions he had decided to make for the occasion. _How is this thing already so snug?_ he thought, running a finger beneath his collar. The silence in the room was deafening, and he could feel himself wilting under Seteth’s unwavering stare, the older man standing by the door, arms crossed.

He had no idea that he was just as nervous, if not moreso.

“Claude,” he began, “allow me to...apologize, for -”

“For being tough on me when I was an ass? Nah, younger me deserved it,” Claude interrupted with a chuckle. “Really, it’s fine.”

“That’s not what I intended to talk about, Claude. I mean to apologize for withholding information from you,” Seteth replied, his voice growing quiet.

Claude tilted his head in confusion. Flayn had mentioned that he might come speak to him about something like this, but he couldn’t tell what. That was, until he recalled the events that occured about one year ago.

_Uh oh._

Seteth cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the whole situation. “Frankly, I feel as though you’ve already put the pieces together yourself, but you deserve some honesty in exchange for what you’ve done for Flayn.”

Realization dawned on him, and a knowing grin crossed his face.

“Was ‘it’s a family name’ really the only excuse you could come up with?”

Seteth chuckled at the absurdity of his own lie. “Unfortunately, yes. Regardless, I’m assuming that means you also know the truth of who I am.”

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t believe it at first. People don’t just live for a thousand years and move around like sprightly young children,” Claude joked. “But yeah, I know. And if you’re worried about me telling anyone, you don’t need to. Everyone’s got a reason for their secrets. I’ll keep it hush.”

The older man’s expression softened - and saddened, Claude noticed - at that. “Just understand that Flayn won’t exactly age like you. Questions will come, and -”

“And we’ll handle them. Promise,” he said, shooting Seteth a wink and a cheeky smile.

Just then, a soft knock came at the door, and Byleth poked her head into the room. “She’s ready, Seteth,” she called, fondly squeezing his shoulder as he left to collect Flayn.

_So they’re still private_, Claude thought. _That’s going to have to change._

“You’re coming with me, Claude,” she said, punching him in the shoulder. The mischievous smirk he didn’t know he had was wiped off in an instant. "I didn't come all the way to Almyra for you to just stand there."

He chuckled. "Thanks for agreeing to this, Your Majesty," he teased, falling into step behind her. "Makes me wonder if I'll have to repay the favor someday."

"Someday, perhaps," she mused. "But let's get you through today first."

***

Flayn chewed at her lip, looking at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair had been curled and tied back, styled carefully to conceal the pointed tips of her ears. She sat there, wracked with nervousness, and didn't hear when the door to the powder room opened.

"Your mother would be so proud of you," Seteth whispered, his voice cracking the slightest bit. "You are absolutely perfect."

She walked over and wrapped her father in a warm hug, wiping away the tears that were gathering in the corners of his eyes with a giggle. "She'd be proud of you, too, Father."

"Whatever for?" he asked, curious as to what she meant.

"For learning to have faith in others," she replied, a playful gleam in her eyes. "And...she'd want you to be happy."

She giggled as her father's face grew red, obviously embarrassed by the things she implied. Not waiting for his stuttered reply, she continued. "The world has changed quite a bit. I'm sure you two will be able to find your happiness soon."

With that, Flayn took Seteth's arm, her free hand holding a bouquet of white lilies. He led her down the halls of the palace, towards the grand event hall. "Are you ready?" he asked, a soft smile gracing his face.

A huge grin beamed across Flayn's face. "I should be asking you that," she replied.

The look on her father's face was worth it as the doors opened to a crowded hall.

***

Byleth held in a chuckle as Claude's breath hitched. To say Flayn was beautiful today was an understatement. The bodice of her gown was intricately beaded, with multiple layers of satin and tulle forming a full yet flowy skirt, the train extending well behind her with even more beading. Byleth thought back to how long it had taken Marianne and Annette to finish her coronation robes, and could only imagine how long it had taken the seamstresses here to finish Flayn's dress.

She shot a reassuring smile towards Seteth as the pair approached, noting his faint blush. _He's like a schoolboy_, she thought, suppressing the desire to laugh. Drawing a deep breath, she began. "Everyone here to bear witness, please sit. Who here presents this woman to be married?"

"I do." Seteth's voice was gentle, and Byleth thought it endearing how he was struggling to make eye contact with her.

As she continued with the ceremony, one thought kept forcing itself to the front of her mind, no clearer than when she saw tears of joy streaking down Seteth's face when Claude and Flayn shared their first kiss as husband and wife.

_Maybe Claude is right._

***

Not all of the Golden Deer had been able to make it, but Claude and Flayn made it their mission to visit with each at the reception.

"How have you not gotten them to come out with it?" Dorothea sounded utterly heartbroken. "They know it's been a year, right? They'll be fine!"

Claude put a finger to his lips as he strode over and asked for a dance from Byleth, drawing a snort from Hilda. 

"Oh, this is gonna be good," she muttered, sipping on her champagne. "How long you think it'll take?"

Dorothea hummed, thoughtfully tapping her finger against her chin. "I give it one dance, if even. They've already been buttered up. But like you said…this should be good."

***

"How are things in Fódlan?" Claude asked, leading Byleth through a mindless number, hand lightly placed at her waist.

She huffed. "Listen, I know you're up to something. Just spit it out." She smirked as Claude pouted, ruse realized.

"I just think the world's ready," he said with a shrug. "Things seem pretty stable on my end, at least, and you seem to have everything under control. You've got some good people in power, you know."

Byleth rolled her eyes. "It'll happen when it happens, Claude." He could swear he heard the slightest twinge of disappointment in her voice.

_Oh, well this will be easy_, he mused. It was painfully obvious what she wanted, and it just made it that much easier for him to push her towards the edge. "Well, just know that tonight's meant for celebrating, and you'll have both our blessings."

With a wink and a bow, he effortlessly passed her off to Seteth. "Your Majesty, Prime Minister," he said, turning to meet with Hilda and Dorothea.

He had planted the seed, so now was the time to see if it would bear fruit.

***

"What exactly do you find so funny?"

Byleth couldn't help but chuckle at the frustration present in Seteth's words - and his actions. She could tell he desperately wanted to hold her close, but he wouldn't yield as a result of his sense of duty.

"Claude says the world's ready. For us, I mean," she said, feeling her ears go red. "He has a point!" she continued in response to the incredulous look he gave her.

"Please, go on," he prodded.

"Just think about it. Relations between nobility and the common folk are incredibly warm, Duscur has been increasingly receptive after our talks and discussion of reparations, Brigid is in _wonderful_ hands, and...well, look at what all Claude has done for Almyra."

She watched as resignation - or was it relief? - crossed his face. Her eyes cast downward, she whispered, "Listen, I just want you to know that I agree with him, and that I'm ready when you are. The decision is up to -"

Her very thoughts stopped as Seteth pressed his lips to hers in a deep, passionate kiss that communicated so much - sorrow, doubt, fear, love, trust, joy. They stood there, lost in each other for what seemed like their own personal eternity, oblivious to the crash of crystal on marble as Flayn dropped her glass and clasped her hands together in glee. It had only been a few moments, but when he pulled back, there was something new in Seteth's eyes.

_Or something that's just been dormant for so long_, Byleth thought, speechless. There was no time for her to get a word in edgewise as he practically swept her off her feet, leading her through a complicated series of steps and twirls in time with the music.

There was no mistaking the pure joy on their faces as they danced as if they were the only ones in the room.

***

"To my knowledge, he's only danced like this with one other person." Flayn draped her arm across the small of Claude's back, leaning against him. "It's an old dance, too. I'm amazed he remembers."

"You know, Flayn," he said, turning to face his new wife, "I have a feeling we might be having another wedding in a few months."

She giggled. "You might well be right," she agreed, watching as Byleth and her father danced without a care in the world.

Behind them, money changed hands. Dorothea's bet was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: hmmm I need a way for Setleth to become Public Knowledge before their wedding  
Me: HMMMMM HOW ABOUT ANOTHER WEDDING
> 
> I promise Claude and Flayn are Actually In Love and this wasn't just his plot to get Byleth and Seteth to kiss in public.


	10. The Woman in White

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As their wedding day approaches, Byleth has some business to take care of.

It had taken every ounce of misdirection she could muster, but Byleth had managed to make this trip to the Rhodos Coast in near-complete secrecy. The only ones who knew were Flayn and Claude, and they were both busy distracting Seteth. She smiled inwardly at the realization that he was probably beside himself with the news that Flayn was with child. _What I wouldn't give to see him fretting like a mother hen_, she thought.

Her feet carried her across the sands and through the tide, the water still rather chill in mid-spring, eventually coming to a stop near a small monument that she had visited some years before. She dropped to her knees in the sand, gently reaching out and brushing her fingers along the granite, the wind and sea having long since worn away the words it bore.

"I've...always had my doubts about this sort of thing," she began, head bowed. "But if some part of you is still here, even after all this time...thank you. Set - I mean, Cichol - has done a wonderful job at raising your daughter, and she's grown into a magnificent woman. The world is so different now from when you walked it, I'm sure."

Byleth chuckled at the absurdity of her rambling. "Anyway, the reason I'm here is to promise you that I'll look after what you left behind. And...I hope to have your blessings in helping him move on."

A soft breeze blew wisps of hair into her face. As she looked toward a distant hilltop, she could have sworn that she saw a woman standing there, hair like her own, the hem of her white dress tugged outwards by the wind. There was a tender smile gracing her features, welcoming and sincere. The breeze felt warmer then, as if bringing with it messages of thanks and joy. Byleth blinked, and just as swiftly as it had appeared, the apparition vanished.

"It's time for me to go home now," she murmured, rising up from her knees. The sun was beginning to sink low on the horizon, staining the sky a brilliant shade of scarlet. "Thank you."

She was too far to hear it, but the very stone of the monument thrummed as if it were content.

***

"What do you mean, you know but you can't tell me?"

Seteth was a frantic mess, his hair in such disarray that the pointed tips of his ears poked out. Not that it mattered, since the other two in the room knew what it meant, anyway.

"What I _mean_, Father, is that Byleth said that this was something she needed to do on her own, and no amount of mothering from you would stop her." Flayn was rather assertive, something that wouldn't have been the case only a year or so ago.

"She's capable of handling herself, Seteth," Claude interjected lazily. He was reclined in one of the chairs, enjoying the comical sight that was Flayn standing in defiance before her father - truly an adorable sight to an outside observer, given their height difference.

"The queen of the country shouldn't be unaccounted for!" Seteth shot back, pacing the room and pinching the bridge of his nose. "A few hours is one thing, but this has been three _days_!"

At that moment, there was a rather heavy-handed knock at the door.

"Oh, for the love of all that's -"

Seteth quickly stopped himself, obviously flustered as Byleth slipped through the door, shutting it behind her.

"People can hear you out there, you know." She smirked, giggling as Seteth went red in the cheeks. Turning her attention to Flayn and Claude, she said, "I can handle it from here. Go get dinner." She mouthed a silent _thank you_ as Claude walked past.

The door had hardly closed before he turned to her, frustration apparent in his face.

"Just what were you thinking? Do you understand how difficult it is to handle things when I don't even know where you've gone?" He sounded hurt and disappointed, and frankly, so would she, if she were in his position.

"I went to see her, Seteth," she replied, resting her head on his chest. "I just...needed to talk to her, I guess. It felt wrong not to."

Seteth placed a kiss upon the top of her head, holding her close. He opened his mouth to speak, but his breath hitched at her next words.

"I _saw_ her, Seteth. At least, I think it was her. I don't think it could've been anyone else."

He had heard plenty of ghost stories in his tenure at the monastery, but he had never thought to lend credence to what he believed to be just a pastime amongst the students. "And?" he prodded, his voice hardly above a whisper out of fear that it would crack.

"She was smiling." She squeezed herself closer to him, feeling the slump in his shoulders that came with what could only be assumed to be relief.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Byleth gazed up at him, a finger resting thoughtfully upon her cheek. "I think Flayn put it best," she teased, eager to see the blush return to his face. She wandered over to the bed and collapsed, fatigue washing over her - she had rode through the night to make it back to the monastery when she did.

Seteth walked over to their bed and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Sleep," he whispered. "You'll need your rest for the week ahead."

"You're one to talk," Byleth groaned as he made his way to leave for dinner. "You're just as busy as me, if not moreso."

Her protests fell on deaf ears as he turned back to chide her. "Sleep. I promise I'll be back later, and you can complain all you want then."

As the door clicked shut, Byleth couldn't help but think of his words. He had a point.

She truly did have a busy week ahead.

***

It took no small amount of effort, but things would work out just the way they planned. She had Claude to thank for getting word out to all her former students. One might think it a miracle that they managed to gather everyone in the same place not once, but twice, for an event centered around her.

The scene was nearly a mirror image of what it had been on her coronation day nearly a year and a half ago, with Mercedes working tirelessly to put a face on Byleth that would take everyone's breath away.

Manuela stood in the corner of the tent, drinking what was probably her fifth glass of wine and complaining to Dorothea that she still hadn't found a husband - though unbeknownst to her, Dorothea found herself a loving husband in Ferdinand, of all people.

"You're going to have Ignatz paint the portrait, right?" Hilda asked. "The one he did for Claude and Flayn was absolutely stunning."

Byleth hummed, knowing that he was probably the best choice for the job. "What do you think, Marianne?"

The other woman's fingers were deftly removing curling rolls from her green hair, separating the locks so that they fell in soft waves. "I think the choice is up to you." Her voice was timid, but she shot a smile towards Hilda. The two women had grown incredibly close over the past few months, and neither were shy about their relationship.

"You can say yes, Mari," Hilda called, sipping on a small glass of champagne. "I'm pretty sure her mind's made up anyway."

"Um, I'm not late, am I?" Bernadetta sheepishly peeked her head through the flap of the tent. "The embroidery took me longer to finish than I thought, and then I got distracted -"

"Oh, hush, Bernie," Lysithea teased, hands curled around a hot cup of peppermint tea. "Since when do weddings ever start on time anyway?"

"There!" Mercedes interjected triumphantly. "Smile for me, Byleth."

She did, and chuckled as tears began to well up in her eyes. "Am I really that beautiful?" she asked, a teasing smile on her face.

"Oh, hush! Let's get you into your dress."

Byleth slipped out of her dressing gown and stepped into her dress, gingerly held open by Annette, with Mercie providing a hand to steady her.

The dress was a simple one, made of ivory chiffon with an asymmetrical hem that fell lower in the back than in the front. Thin straps dug into her shoulders, the fitted bodice giving way to a flowing skirt.

"Hey, Alois wants to know if you're - oh Goddess."

Catherine stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Byleth in her dress, giddily twirling. A sharp punch to her arm drew her out of her stupor, blushing deeply as Shamir passed along their message.

"Alois is ready when you are. You all can head to your seats," she said, her voice as cool and disconnected as always. Byleth giggled as she heard the pair squabbling as they went to meet with the rest of the knights.

As everyone filed out of the tent, she took into her hand the sash Bernie had embroidered. It was emerald silk, with delicate flowers and fish stitched in golden thread. On one end was the Crest of Flames, surrounded by lilies and forget-me-nots, and on the other was the Crest of Cichol, surrounded likewise by various fish. _She truly is remarkably observant_, she thought, marvelling at the detail. She reached down and picked up a white lily, nesting it behind her ear like Flayn had done for her coronation.

With a deep breath, she stepped out of the tent, barefoot. Alois was waiting for her as promised, a sincere smile crossing his face.

"Jeralt would be so proud of you," he said, his voice not its usual booming volume. "And, truth be told, I'm honored that you picked me to walk you down the aisle."

She chortled. "It felt right, you know. Just like this." Handing him the sash, she gazed west, towards where the setting sun was beginning to stain the sky pink. She steadied herself with one final breath, hooking her arm around his.

"I'm ready."

***

"Seteth. Hey, Seteth? Are you okay?"

Claude's voice drew him out of the depths of his mind, thinking back on everything that had brought them to where they are now.

_Would I have it any other way?_ he pondered. "I'm fine," he replied, looking out to all who had gathered along the coast for the occasion.

Bernie had come to sit by Raphael, the latter having helped the former come out of her shell considerably. As much as they denied it, there could only be one reason that Raphael had decided to move to Varley territory from his home in what used to be the Leicester Alliance.

Ingrid and Sylvain sat off to the side with Flayn, undoubtedly sharing parenting advice of questionable quality as Ingrid held their newborn to her chest, a shock of red hair peeking out from the swaddling blanket.

Next to them was Felix, rolling his eyes at the idea of having to be there in the first place. His look softened, however, as Annette took his hand in hers and rubbed the back of it with her thumb, smiling sweetly.

Towards the back, a now-crestless Lysithea sat next to Linhardt, who was barely managing to stay awake. In truth, he would be fast asleep were it not for Caspar's elbow constantly finding a resting place in his ribs. The entire situation brought a wide smile to Petra's face as she chastised her husband.

Mercedes could be seen shooting a sympathetic look towards Dorothea, while Ferdinand and Lorenz were both lost in discussion concerning policy and nobility - some things really didn't change.

Hilda and Marianne sat together near the middle, hands clasped together and heads resting against each other.

Ashe stood off to the side, coordinating entourage placements, as did Leonie. There was no mistaking the looks she sent towards Ignatz, though, the bespectacled man seated at the very back with a canvas and palette.

Hanneman sat beside Manuela, seemingly consoling her, though for what, Seteth wasn't certain.

Shamir made her way up the aisle, offering a quick bow before saying, "She's ready. I hope you are." The wink she cast Seteth was rather uncharacteristic - perhaps Catherine was rubbing off on her.

All the praying in the world couldn't prepare Seteth for the ethereal beauty that stepped out from the woods, the setting sun bathing her in a warm glow. Strands of her green hair shimmered like gold, and the chiffon of her dress draped delicately over her hips.

_Goddess preserve me_, he thought, feeling his face grow warm. He was grateful for wearing only a shirt and breeches, the legs rolled to about mid-calf.

"Who here presents this woman to be married?" Once again, Claude's voice drew him to the present.

"I do," came the expected reply from Alois as he wiped a tear from his eye. He stepped forward and handed Claude the sash before retreating to a nearby chair.

"Very well. Now, let's get the hard part out of the way - any objections to what's happening?" Claude burst into a fit of laughter as Byleth kicked at his shin.

"Fine, fine. Now clasp your hands together."

Seteth smiled bashfully, taking Byleth's hands in his own. They were warm in his grip, and every callous was something he was all too familiar with. It didn't take long for the two to become lost in each other's eyes as Claude made quick work of tying their hands together with the sash.

"Now, Seteth, your vows?"

Seteth cleared his throat, worried that his voice might crack at any moment. "You cannot possess me, for I belong to myself. But while we both wish it, I give you that which is mine to give. You cannot command me, for I am a free person. But I shall serve you in those ways you require, and the honeycomb will taste sweeter coming from my hand.

"I pledge to you that yours will be the name I cry aloud in the night, and the eyes into which I smile in the morning. I pledge to you the first bite from my meat, and the first drink from my cup. I pledge to you my living and my dying, equally in your care, and to tell no strangers of our grievances. This is my wedding vow to you."

He didn't feel the tears streaking across his cheeks as Byleth echoed the vows, reverence apparent in her eyes and voice. Her fingers squeezed at his underneath the sash binding their hands together, the only indication he had that she had finished.

"Well, I think my job here is done," Claude teased, a playful smile crossing his face. "As King of Almyra, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss -"

Byleth didn't wait for Claude to finish his sentence, drawing out a chuckle. And frankly, Seteth didn't care. They stood there for some time, drinking in the emotion of their first kiss as husband and wife. Neither could hear the raucous cheering of everyone on the beach.

For the first time in a long time, Seteth truly felt content.

***

There was no shortage of food or wine that night. Such was the availability of libations that Hanneman confessed to Manuela, though she was too far gone to realize. There was no shortage of teasing in that case, either.

As the full moon rose, no one, save for Flayn and Claude, saw as Byleth and Seteth quietly stole away from the festivities, the latter leading her on the most direct path to his tent.

"I'm glad they found their happiness," Flayn whispered, mindlessly caressing her belly. Claude draped his arm around her shoulders, drawing her close and humming in agreement. The world had changed, but if this wedding was anything to go by, many of the people had not, and the more Claude thought on it, the more his heart came to a singular conclusion.

No one would have it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel that this is an appropriate end to this work! I will probably continue to write some Setleth stuff, but boy howdy did this put me through a roller coaster ride of emotions.


End file.
